


blindness

by iron_spider



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blind Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/pseuds/iron_spider
Summary: “Call—” He takes another hit and feels queasy, he’s freaking out, he can’tsee. Pure darkness, he’s completely blind. He pulls himself backwards and he can still hear the guy breathing, his feet hitting the ground. “Call Mr. Stark, call him—”“Calling Tony Stark.”Peter takes a hard kick to the stomach and now he really feels like he’s gonna throw up—he shoots a taser web, hears the guy yell out but then he’s getting kicked again and he can’t see, he can’t see, he has to get out of here—“Peter?” Tony’s voice asks. “Peter, what’s up?”“Help me!” Peter yells. “Help me, help, I can’t—this guy sprayed me with something and I can’t see, I can’t see—” He shoots the rapid fire webs and tries to scurry backwards.“I’m coming,” Tony says. “I’m coming—I’ve got you, I’m close—”





	blindness

Peter hadn’t thought much of the tear in his suit, but when the guy in the yellow jacket sprays something at him, a flicker of worry shoots through his veins. And then there’s panic, because as he’s throwing his next punch the darkness comes seeping in. It looks like fire eating up a strip of film, and then it doesn’t look like anything at all. Nothing. Blackness.

His heartrate skyrockets. He stumbles forward, hands swiping through the air, and then he catches a hard punch to the face that sends him backwards again. 

“Karen—is it—the suit, what’s—”

“ _The suit is operating correctly, Peter_ ,” Karen’s voice says, as Peter gets hit again, flattened out on the concrete. “ _It’s your eyesight, whatever he sprayed did something—I’m running diagnostics but coming up empty._ ”

“Call—” He takes another hit and feels queasy, he’s freaking out, he can’t _see_. Pure darkness, he’s completely blind. He pulls himself backwards and he can still hear the guy breathing, his feet hitting the ground. “Call Mr. Stark, call him—”

“ _Calling Tony Stark._ ”

Peter takes a hard kick to the stomach and now he really feels like he’s gonna throw up—he shoots a taser web, hears the guy yell out but then he’s getting kicked again and he can’t see, he can’t see, he has to get out of here—

“ _Peter_?” Tony’s voice asks. “ _Peter, what’s up?_ ”

“Help me!” Peter yells. “Help me, help, I can’t—this guy sprayed me with something and I can’t see, I can’t see—” He shoots the rapid fire webs and tries to scurry backwards.

“ _I’m coming_ ,” Tony says. “ _I’m coming—I’ve got you, I’m close—_ ”

Peter shoots another web and he can hear a body hit what sounds like a tree or something, and he shoots a couple more webs just in case. 

“Hey!” he yells. “You still there?”

“ _I’m here, Peter_ ,” Tony’s voice says. “ _I’m coming, I’m coming—_ ”

“No,” Peter pants, cutting his hands through the air. “No, the bad guy—”

“ _You’re talking to the bad guy?_ ”

Peter’s still on the ground and he clutches at his middle. He feels like some of his ribs might be broken, and he still can’t see. But he isn’t being attacked anymore, and he can’t hear anything but the wind and distant honking. 

“I think I got him,” Peter says, groaning a little bit. His heart is still beating so fast. He’s freaking out but he’s trying not to freak out. “Tony, I can’t—I can’t see, it’s not my suit, it’s me, I can’t see—”

“ _Okay, just—stay where you are, I’m a couple minutes out—_ ”

Peter nods. He blinks over and over again but it’s still all darkness. He shakes, drawing his knees up to his chest. He knows he was on 105th, in that creepy back alleyway with the broken dumpster because that idiot ran really fast. Peter didn’t think he was the kind of dude who would have blindness spray or whatever the hell he had, especially blindness spray that can seep through a tiny cut on his _arm._

He feels like he’s hyperventilating. It’s too dark. He can’t feel anything around him, just the ground he’s sitting on, and there’s more honking, goddamn New York—everything is always loud for him unless he focuses hard to settle things down, but now it feels as loud as the panic pumping through his blood. High pitched, screaming panic.

“Tony, I can’t see,” Peter whispers, holding onto his own knees.

“ _It’s okay, it’s okay_ ,” Tony says, loud in his ears. “ _We’ll figure it out._ ”

Peter hears what sounds like a rocket shooting through the air and he presses his hands down on the concrete. “Is that you?” he asks.

“ _Yeah, yeah, about to land, I see you._ ”

Peter tries to breathe. He wants to get somewhere safe, he wants to get the mask off, he needs to rub his eyes. The rocket sounds come closer and then he hears Tony land behind him and he scrambles to his feet, turning towards the sound and holding his hands out. He takes a few blind steps forward and he feels Tony’s bare hand wrapping around his own. 

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” Tony says, squeezing his hand. 

Peter latches on, grabbing Tony’s elbow, and he’s clearly out of the suit. Peter’s heart is nearly beating out of his chest. 

“Calm down, bud, I’ve got you,” Tony says, wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders.

“Where’s the guy?” Peter asks, looking back and forth, like that’s gonna help. Nothing, nothing, darkness. He’s holding onto Tony’s arm so tight, he’d be surprised if he didn’t leave bruises. 

“Knocked out against a tree,” Tony says, tugging Peter against him. “You got him pretty good, considering—lemme see what he sprayed you with—”

He starts to move away, his arm slipping from around Peter’s shoulders, but Peter holds onto him tight. He doesn’t say anything, though he’s inclined towards some childish pleas of _don’t leave me_ , but Tony seems to get the idea without Peter completely embarrassing himself.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Tony says, and then he feels Tony’s hand on his back as he leads him forward a little bit. “Just wanna see here—”

“There’s a cut on my arm, I think—I think that’s how the spray got in my system,” Peter says. “That’s the only place the suit is ripped.”

“Got it,” Tony says. 

“Why were you, uh, in Queens?” Peter asks, taking a couple tentative steps forward, and he definitely feels unsure on his feet. It’s just so goddamn _dark._

“Coming to see you, dummy,” Tony says. “I know May’s working late, I figured you might be up to no good—or too much good—”

“He was just stealing from the tire warehouse,” Peter says. “I didn’t think—” He trails off because he feels Tony bend down, still holding onto his wrist, and he can hear something metal scratching against the ground.

“Not sure what the hell this is,” Tony says, and Peter can feel him standing back up, moving closer. “Gonna bring it back to Bruce—listen, it’s gonna be fine—”

“How do you know?” Peter asks. He’s like two seconds away from an all-out panic attack. This has never happened before and it’s completely not cool.

“Because I won’t let it be anything but fine,” Tony says. “I’m gonna fly you back to the compound—it’s gonna take a bit, you gonna be okay with that?”

Peter loves flying with Iron Man. Tony actually takes him flying all the time, and there’s nothing like it. But Peter gets why he’s asking. It’ll be dark, he won’t be able to see shit, and he doesn’t know if it’ll make him sick or not to do it blind. 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says, eager to just get somewhere where he can take off the mask and they can figure this out.

“Okay,” Tony says. “I’m gonna let go of you so I can suit back up—then we’ll head out, okay? I called the cops for this creep, they’re coming for him.”

Peter nods, and reluctantly lets Tony go. He tries to stand there like he normally would but he can’t help but reach out a little bit, into the darkness. “I’m sorry,” Peter says. “This is so stupid.”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything,” Tony says. 

Peter nods. He stands there like an idiot for a couple seconds before he feels an armored hand on his shoulder.

“You ready to go?” Tony asks, clearly in his suit now. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Peter says.

Panic, panic, panic.

~

Throughout the entire flight, Peter doesn’t feel like Spiderman. He feels like a scared little kid, like a four year old lost in the mall, like a seven year old who doesn’t know how to be an orphan. He holds onto Tony so tight that he’s pretty sure he’s warping the goddamn armor, but Tony doesn’t say anything about it. Peter squeezes his eyes shut at first, but then he realizes he doesn’t need to do that—so he just stares blankly as the wind howls in his ears and the darkness sinks in all around him. 

He refuses to think about this being permanent.

Once they land Peter can’t tell where the hell he is and he nearly topples to the ground before Tony catches him around the waist, quickly getting out of the suit and gripping Peter tighter. 

“Alright, buddy, I’ve got you,” Tony’s voice says, and he takes Peter’s mask off. Peter immediately reaches up and rubs his eyes, but he only makes static in the darkness, like little bursts of energy.

“I’m freaking out,” Peter admits. 

“We’re on the roof,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair off his forehead. “I’m gonna walk you over to the door, then we’re gonna take like ten steps over to the elevator, and then right down to the med bay. Bruce knows we’re coming, he knows what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “But just so you know, I’m freaking out.”

“I know, trust me,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s shoulder. “I accidentally blinded myself when Rhodey and I were messing around back in college, I made way too many things explode, he can tell you—I know it’s not fun, trust me, but we’re gonna figure it out.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter breathes. 

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” He reaches out in front of him and starts walking, Tony leading him. He finds the edge of the wall and hears Tony kick the door open.

They make their way downstairs, Peter nearly falls again in the elevator, and when they get to what he thinks is the med bay hallway he can hear loud, determined footfalls coming towards them. 

“Hey, Peter,” Bruce’s voice says.

“I’m gonna bring him right over—”

It feels a lot colder in here than it did outside, and he shivers a little bit. Tony must feel it, because he rubs Peter’s arm up and down.

“Sorry for, uh, disrupting your night,” Peter says. “Both of you—well—”

“I was coming to see you, idiot, shut up,” Tony says, without any heat. “And Bruce wasn’t doing anything.” He walks him forward, and Peter runs his hand over something cold to his right, what feels like a pan or something. 

“Not that I want you speaking for me, but, uh—yeah, I was watching _Golden Girls_ ,” Bruce says.

“I love that show,” Peter says, his voice wavering a little.

“You’re definitely a Rose,” Tony says. “Here.” He takes Peter’s hand, guides it behind him where he find the bed he usually winds up on when he lands in here. He thinks. “Hop up,” Tony says.

Peter does and he can feel Bruce’s hands on him too, the both of them helping him lay down. He can feel them both hovering, then he hears a couple clicks. “What are you guys doing? Are you analyzing my brain?”

“Shining a light,” Bruce says. “You can’t see it at all?”

A chill runs through Peter. “No,” he says, and his voice breaks. 

“Okay, okay, that’s fine,” Bruce says.

“Yeah, kid, that doesn’t mean anything,” Tony says, holding Peter’s arm. 

“I’m gonna take a look at this thing,” Bruce says. 

“I’ll clean out his arm,” Tony says. 

Peter hears a chair dragging along the ground and he can feel Tony’s hands turning his arm over so the wound is facing up. Peter closes his eyes, not that it fucking matters, and runs his free hand over his face. He feels Tony pulling back the material of the suit around the wound, and Peter winces when he feels something cold there.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony says. 

“You’re gonna have to make me a cane,” Peter says, trying not to sound weepy.

“No, hush.”

“One that knows its way around and can read my brainwaves and stop me from running into shit.”

“You’re gonna be blind for like, an hour longer or I’m gonna make you another set of _eyes_ ,” Tony says. 

“No, I don’t want an eye transplant.” Peter hiccups a little bit, rubbing his eyes again. Still nothing. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna tell May I’m staying here tonight.”

Tony is quiet, but he’s still tending to the wound on Peter’s arm. “You don’t wanna…tell her what happened?” he asks.

“Not yet,” Peter says. May’s got enough to worry about, all the time, most of that due to him. He wants to try and solve this shit first, before he even thinks about telling her. He thinks he can probably drag that out for about a day or so before he’s gotta spill.

“We gotta get you into some normal clothes,” Tony says. “I’m gonna go grab ‘em from upstairs. Bruce is like ten steps away from you, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Peter nods. 

“Peter.”

“Yeah, fine.”

“I will be _right back_. Yell for Bruce if you need anything. I’m bringing pajamas. You want anything else?”

Peter shakes his head. Panic has him in its claws. He can’t see, he’s blind, it’s all dark.

“I’ve got cookies up there. Pepper made them, so they’re actually good.”

Peter nods again. The darkness is getting to him. He won’t be able to take a goddamn cookie because he can’t fucking see it. He feels Tony’s hand cover his own, the one he has pressed over his eyes. 

“You know you can count on me, right?” Tony asks, softly. Peter knows he’s being quiet, but everything seems loud now that one of his senses is shot. He can hear every move Bruce is making across the room, every click on his keyboard. He can hear Tony’s heart beating faster than it should. “I’m gonna fix this. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, clearing his throat.

Tony squeezes his hand. “Right back,” he says.

~

Tony, embarrassingly enough, has to help Peter out of his suit and into his pajamas, which makes him feel like he’s eight again with a broken leg, when Ben had to help him in and out of the tub. At least he doesn’t have a garbage bag wrapped around his leg this time, but this is almost as bad. It’s worse, on the scary scale, because Bruce injects him with something that’s supposed to help and nothing happens. The darkness almost seems to get darker.

He calls May and lies. Tries not to cry. He says goodnight and prays tomorrow he’ll be saying it to her face. When he’ll be able to see her face.

“What if I’m like this forever?” Peter asks, as Tony helps him walk up the stairs. He nearly stumbles once, but Tony tightens his grip on him and taps his foot on the next stair so Peter makes it. 

“You won’t be,” Tony says. “Didn’t I say I’d fix it? Your hearing’s better, I know you caught that.”

Peter sighs. “I just…” A shudder runs through him. He pictures his whole life like this and his heart drops. “I couldn’t be Spiderman.”

“We’re turning right,” Tony says, and guides them into the hall. “And—one—like I’ve said, numerous times now—we’re gonna fix it. And, in some alternate reality where we don’t—you’re Spiderman. With or without your sight, you’re—you’re Spiderman, once you’re a hero, you’re always a hero, and you’re perfectly capable—”

“How?” Peter blurts out, angry and heated. “How could I possibly—”

“Trust me,” Tony says. “There’s a guy.”

Peter wishes he could see his face.

“We’re at your door,” Tony says, and Peter hears him tapping on the knob. “I’m gonna open it.”

“Uh,” Peter says, taking an uncertain step forward over the threshold. “What do you mean there’s a guy?”

“I probably shouldn’t even be saying it, I’m not really—”

Peter leans into him a little bit. “Uh, it’s me, and I’m blind, I deserve to know.”

Tony sighs. He has one arm around Peter’s waist and he grabs his wrist, extending his hand and pointing it off to the left a little bit. Peter can hear his clock ticking on the far wall, and the fish tank gurgling. 

“We’re heading to the bed,” Tony says. “Over here. You don’t have to go to the bathroom or anything, right?”

“Ugh. No, dad.”

Tony snorts. 

“Feed my fish,” Peter says, as Tony helps him sit on the edge of the bed. “And there’s a guy? Finish your thought! I’m not gonna drop this!”

“He’s just like you, he doesn’t want people knowing who he is,” Tony says, patting Peter on the shoulder. Peter hears him walking over in the direction of the fish tank. 

“So—why do you—wait, I won’t tell anybody! He’s blind? He’s a superhero?” Peter blinks, rubbing his eyes again, feeling that jolt of panic when the darkness won’t fade. He hears Tony walk back over and sit next to him, the bed sagging a little bit. 

“He’s blind—essentially—works in Hell’s Kitchen—primarily—I just met him a couple weeks ago—strange coincidence—” He sighs again. 

Peter pauses. Thinks back. Hell’s Kitchen. “Wait. Hell’s Kitchen. A dude—Daredevil?”

Silence. “You want more cookies? There were a couple left—”

“Are you talking about Daredevil?” Peter asks, a little louder. He squeezes his hands in his lap. “It makes sense, his mask is a little—hmmm—”

“Okay, I need you to go to sleep,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulder again. “We’re gonna work on this more tomorrow—”

Peter feels a lump in his throat. “I don’t know—if he’s—if he’s blind—I don’t think I could ever—ever be like him,” he says. 

“You don’t even know I’m talking about him,” Tony says, nudging into Peter’s side. “I could be talking about—Jackass the flying—laser beam, I don’t know—”

Peter’s heart is hammering fast and he rubs at his eyes again. Still nothing.

“Anyways, you’re better than him,” Tony says. “Daredevil and Jackass—both of them, all of them. Iron Man, Captain America—Spiderman’s top tier, eyesight or not.”

“I don’t know,” Peter says, and he can feel his eyes filling up with tears. 

“Well I do,” Tony says. He takes Peter’s hand and snaps something around his wrist. 

“What’s that?” Peter asks.

“Tap it twice, it tells me your location and I’ll come running. Otherwise, you tell it where you wanna go, whether that’s to the bathroom or Central Park, and it’ll tell you how to get there, pulsing whenever you’re in danger of running into something.”

Peter smiles, running his fingers over the silicone bracelet. “When did you make this?”

“Between the first batch of cookies and the chicken nuggets,” Tony says. “It was something I already had going, I just had to tweak a couple things to fit the situation, so—”

Peter nods. “Thank you, Tony,” he says. He clears his throat. “I—I just—”

“You’re not gonna have to wear it for long,” Tony says. “I promise.”

~

Peter has weird dreams. It’s like he’s watching himself, and he’s still blind but the one that’s watching can see. He’s working with Daredevil, trying to get rid of these weird half rat, half human clone things that are trying to destroy all the ice cream shops in New York. Then he’s telling May that he’s blind and she can’t look at him, she doesn’t hide the horror in her face because he can’t see her, and she’s backing away from him. In the next he’s with Tony, and Tony is putting him inside the Iron Man suit so he can get to school.

He wakes up, opens his eyes. Or at least he thinks he does. And then he turns onto his side and collapses into tears, because it’s still so fucking dark. He still can’t see. He’d hoped it would wear off in the night, that he’d wake up and the nightmare would be over. He curls in on himself and covers his face, crying so hard he can barely breathe.

And then he gets up. Stumbles over to where he thinks the dresser is, and the bracelet does its job, pulsing against his wrist every time he’s close to running into a wall. He puts on clothes, tries to figure out what’s what by feeling along the seams, and his heart is ready to break through his chest. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, where he wants to go, but he feels like he’s gonna jump out of his goddamn skin. He’s gotta solve this today, he’s gotta, he can’t go to May with this, he can’t tell her, he can’t, he can’t—

He doesn’t want to scream the word _bathroom_ into the bracelet so he feels along the wall until he finds it. He rubs at his eyes for what feels like forever, splashing his face with water, but nothing helps. He can’t believe he got fucking blinded by some asshole on the street, and he’s close to having a goddamn panic attack. He wants to tap the bracelet twice, wants to get Tony in here because he’s freaking out—but he’s not a baby, he’s not a baby, he’s gotta keep a level head or Tony’s never gonna trust him with anything.

Peter presses his forehead against the wall. He needs some air. He sucks in a couple deep breaths, and then brings his wrist up to his mouth. 

“Uh—backyard—back, uh—backyard of the compound. Where I…where I am right now, backyard.” He sounds like he’s seven years old and he wipes at his eyes again. 

He hears FRIDAY’S voice come out from the bracelet, a little muted and soft. “ _Turn to the right, take seven steps out into the bedroom, and open the door._ ”

~

He makes it without being seen, he assumes, because no one stops him. He can hear people talking as he goes, bits and pieces of conversation, but no one’s talking about him or what’s going on, thank God. He only stumbles once, getting out the back door, but he catches himself before he faceplants, and after some sidewalk he feels the grass beneath his bare feet.

“ _You have reached your destination._ ”

He reaches his arms out in front of him. He doesn’t hear any people out here, no one talking, and he takes about ten steps forward without running into anything before he stops. Anxiety is surging through his veins—he can feel the sun beating down on him but everything is pitch black, and he might as well be walking out in the middle of a goddamn void because he can’t see anything. Nothing, all around him.

He sits down in the grass. He tries to focus, tries to breathe. 

He hears water running somewhere, breaking over rocks. He hears a car starting, the engine rattling. A breeze that feels cold and stiff against his cheeks, and he can hear it making the trees sway, picking off leaves. He can hear them hit the ground. He can hear a family of birds, hear them putting together and picking at a new nest. When he focuses harder he can hear city sounds miles and miles away, bells ringing in bodegas, glasses clinking on verandas, a woman slamming a cab door shut with a gloved hand, a child threatening to throw a penny off the top of the Empire State Building, someone tapping their fingers on the Staten Island ferry. He can trace the sounds all throughout New York City.

He can almost isolate them, pick them out and move them around, map them and place them amongst the darkness. He could hear almost everything at volume eleven when he could see, but now that he can’t, it’s amplified, doubled, maybe because he’s forced into it, forced into relying on his hearing instead of his sight. It freaks him out—it’s sort of amazing, but it scares him half to death. He doesn’t think he’d be able to get used to it. He hopes he doesn’t have to. He knows he’s not strong enough.

He can hear Tony coming, all the way from the med lab. Peter lays down in the grass and moves his arms and legs back and forth, kinda like he’s making a snow angel. A grass angel. He worries that Tony is coming with bad news. He can’t think of how to tell May about this. How to tell Ned. How to convince himself that he’s gotta live with it, that one mistake led him here. To darkness forever.

Peter hears the door open. Tony coming his way. Tony’s heartbeat getting faster.

“Pete, did you fuckin—did you fall? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Peter says, hearing him get closer and stop right above him. “I—the bracelet got me out here. Safe and sound. I wanted to get some air.”

“Jesus, scared me to death,” Tony says. Peter can hear him get closer, and it sounds like he’s kneeling. “I’m gonna stab you in the arm with something.”

“Oh, awesome.”

“Shouldn’t hurt too much—you ready?”

“Sure,” Peter says. He feels it and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and Tony presses something over the spot on his arm. “Yeah, stab was the right word,” Peter mutters.

“Sorry, bud,” Tony says. “Give it a second.”

Peter’s heart lurches. Something eats away at the darkness, like it’s stamping it out and replacing it with blinding light. Static floods in and the first thing that comes into focus is Tony’s face, hovering over him, the sun haloed behind his head. Tony grins.

Peter can _see him._

“Hey kid!” Tony says. “All clear?”

Peter blinks, stares. His mouth hangs open. He rubs his eyes, and Tony’s smile fades slightly, his expression shifting to concern.

“All clear, right?” Tony asks.

Peter sits up fast, so fast that they nearly bump heads. He blinks, over and over, but he still! He can still! He can still see! He can see he can see he can _see_ —

He hurls himself at Tony in a hug, laughing like a maniac. He looks up and around over Tony’s shoulder at the world he never thought he’d see again, the green of the trees and the grass and the texture of the building and the glass and the open door on the second level and the sunflowers at the base of the backyard and everything everything _all of it._

“Oh my God, thank you,” Peter whispers, dipping his chin a little lower against Tony’s shoulder.

“Ah, thank Bruce,” Tony says, patting Peter’s back. “He figured it out, synthesized a cure. I’m glad the cops got that guy because he was playing with some not so nice chemicals.”

“Oh my God,” Peter says again, shaking his head. He doesn’t wanna blink, he doesn’t wanna close his eyes, but when he does it doesn’t take anything away. He can see the blue of the sky when he opens them again, the birds flying overhead. 

“Your shirt’s on inside out,” Tony says, picking at the tag at the base of Peter’s neck.

“I was blind, I’m proud I even got it on,” Peter says, pulling back and looking Tony in the eye. “Just—thanks. To you and Bruce. I don’t think I could have…dealt with it for much longer without having a complete breakdown.”

“Listen, you can do anything, and I believe that wholeheartedly,” Tony says, honesty in his eyes. “You adapt, you figure things out, you’re resourceful.”

“You have too much faith in me,” Peter says. Jesus, his relief is palpable. He wants to skip through fields and sing and throw himself around in his happiness. He remembers something. “Hey, can I meet Daredevil? I really wanna meet Daredevil.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“I saw that.”

“I know, I wanted you to.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “Iron Man’s still my favorite. Always, no matter what. I just wanna…I just wanna meet Daredevil. And I know you know Daredevil.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peter groans, getting to his feet and pulling Tony up after him. “Okay, liar, let’s go back inside before you call him. I wanna look at everything.” He runs ahead and jumps into the air a couple times, and he can hear Tony laughing. He turns around. He can see him laughing, too.


End file.
